Shooting Hearts
by fayzalmoonbeam
Summary: What if Shelia had been closer to accepting Sir Lawrence's proposal of marriage than she had appeared at the end of Treasure of Trados? How would Hank have reacted? HankOC


Shooting Hearts

Rating: R/15 (yes, it's gone up!)

Author's Note: This is the second draft of this story, and I think it's now a lot better thanks to the kind input of Sealgirl-thanks for reading and critiquing for me! I am now confident enough to take ownership of Rhiann, safe in the knowledge that she is an OC and not a MS.

This is a "missing scene" from _Garden of Zinn. _What if Sheila had been closer to accepting King Lawrence's proposal of marriage than she appeared in the episode? Written from Hank's point of view, the other members of the gang don't feature here much. This is far more down to time constraints than for any other reason-so be prepared for a very one-sided interpretation of events!

The victory over Queen Zinn had been a tough one, but it was over at last. The gang had been invited by King Lawrence to spend some time in the recaptured kingdom. There was no disputing he beauty of the place; the exotic plants and flowers that spread in an ordered chaos throughout the gardens were just the start of a beautiful and majestic territory. Even in the short days since King Lawrence had assumed the throne again, there was a feel of optimism in the air that touched everyone who dwelled within the main city and beyond.

Not quite everyone. While Hank the Ranger was naturally pleased that King Lawrence had been restored to his rightful throne, his heart was slowly being ripped in two by the wider implications of this victory. For almost a week now he had seen the only girl he'd ever loved being swept off her feet by the new monarch, and he was absolutely powerless to do anything about it. Now, as he wandered the palace grounds aimlessly, trying to be wherever Lawrence and Sheila were not, he pondered what had probably been the worst decision of his life so far.

When he and his friends had been ripped from their own world and plunged into the Realm, all hopes of a "normal" relationship with Sheila had been lost. Hank had made the decision (admittedly without telling anyone about it) that any feelings he had for the beautiful redhead had to be put to one side in order for the gang to survive in this extremely hostile place. For the most part, this had worked. It was easy to justify his self-imposed distance from her when they were being pursued by a herd of rampaging orcs, or battling one of the many demons (Venger included) that threatened to annihilate them. But sometimes at night, when the others were asleep, and he was keeping watch over the camp, seeing her beautiful face at peace in the sanctuary of her dreams…it was getting harder to stay aloof from her.

A tinkle of merry laughter drifted from the other side of the garden, and Hank felt his heart crack even further. Knowing that to see the source of the laughter would be even more of a threat to his self-control, but feeling the masochistic need to see her nonetheless, he peered back around the hedge and cast his eyes down the garden. Sure enough, there she was, arm in arm with King Lawrence, who looked healthier by the day. With a moan, Hank closed his eyes and turned back away.

"Sir?" A soft voice enquired.

Snapping out of his misery and trying to regain his composure, Hank focused on a tall and statuesque auburn haired girl, who, silently it seemed, had suddenly appeared in front of him. She was dressed in a dark, almost black tunic and leggings, and had a quiver of arrows slung over one shoulder and a bow in her right hand.

"Yes?" He questioned softly, hoping this was merely a courtesy call.

"My name is Rhiann," The girl replied, smiling courteously at the Ranger. "I am the head of King Lawrence's archers. I noticed that this is a particular skill that you have, and I was curious to see if you would like to take some time to practise with me during your stay."

With a polite refusal poised on his lips, Hank forced a smile. "That's very kind of you Rhiann," he said "Maybe later on in the day."

Rhiann smiled back, seemingly undeterred by his rebuff. "Very well, I shall see you a little later on." She paused and then her eyes gleamed mischievously. "Perhaps when you feel your mind will be more on the game!" She turned her heel and strode off.

Hank shook his head. Her assurance that he would join her was refreshing-it almost felt good to be given an order for once. Smiling in spite of his previous mood, he wandered back to the castle to get his bow.

Sheila looked up at King Lawrence and smiled. After all this time in the Realm, she was starting to relax. King Lawrence had been kind and considerate to both her and her friends since they had rescued him from the spell that his sister Zinnia had put on him, and she was taking advantage of a few days of rest and recuperation.

"This garden is so beautiful," she sighed, "I've never seen anything like it."

"It is but a haze of meaningless colour compared to you, Lady Sheila," King Lawrence replied. "You have a rare and delicate beauty that few I have encountered possess."

Unaccustomed to the extravagance of his compliment, Sheila blushed and giggled nervously. "It's so nice to be safe for once," she said, trying to change the subject. "We spend so much time running I…" Her words ceased as King Lawrence captured her mouth with a kiss. Instinctively, she leaned in to the softness of his embrace and her own mouth, tentatively at first but with increasing confidence, sought his. All thoughts of anything other than the kiss fled from Sheila's mind as she lost herself in the moment.

"Sheila," Lawrence murmured as their lips finally parted. "Please consider doing me the honour of staying a little longer in my kingdom."

Having retrieved his energy bow from the safe room in the castle, Hank strolled down to the practise ground to the rear of the main gardens. He hoped that an afternoon of bow practise, and the opportunity to swap some tips with the leader of the king's archers, would prove a big enough distraction to keep his mind off Sheila and her royal suitor. He took the quickest route possible across the garden, and so missed the passionate encounter that was occurring between Lawrence and Sheila on the other side.

"Rhiann?" He called as he neared the practise range. He knew well enough not to sneak up on archers practising their craft, from the lessons he'd taken back home.

"Ranger, hello!" Rhiann called, dropping her bow to her side.

"My name's Hank," he volunteered, smiling at the girl. She was, he correctly guessed, his own age, and very nearly his own height. Even through the tunic he could see she was well toned and lithe-from her slim arms, slender waist and long, lean legs-every inch the archer. He cleared his throat nervously, aware that he had been staring.

"Well, Hank," Rhiann replied brightly. "Why don't you show me what you can do?" She tossed the bow she was holding over to Hank.

"With this?" Hank said, momentarily bewildered.

"Of course!" Rhiann smiled. "You didn't think you were going to get off that lightly, did you?" She pointed at his energy bow. "That thing's so well tuned to you these days there's no challenge in using it. It's time to get back to using the real thing!"

Hank laughed in spite of himself. "Well, sure, OK. It's been a while since I've used one of these though-not since high school."

"High school?" Rhiann looked confused for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"Never mind," Hank replied. "I'll tell you later." Holding up the beautifully shaped wooden bow, he drew back the string, unaccustomed to the tightness of it. Maybe Rhiann was right about the comfort zone of his energy bow.

"Where do we start?" He asked her as he took the quiver of arrow she offered.

"The practise range is just behind those trees," Rhiann replied. "But I thought you needed something a little more challenging so we'll start with this." Closing her eyes momentarily, she clasped her hands briefly and then released them. As she did so, a glowing ball of light floated up and hovered between them.

Hank looked confused for a moment. "What happens here?" he asked the archer.

"It's a moving target," Rhiann explained. "As you progress, it moves in more complex ways until you reach your optimum level for the session."

"You're kidding!" Hank laughed again. "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to try!"

"Alright, just give it a minute to sense you and adjust…" Rhiann murmured. "There. Nice and easy at first-even you shouldn't be able to miss this one!"

"Even me?" Hank responded. "What's that supposed to mean?" Spurred on by her teasing, he raised the bow, narrowed his eyes, took careful aim…and missed the ball of light by three feet.

Rhiann's bubbling laughter stung Hank's pride. "OK, so maybe I AM a little out of practise," he muttered, taking another arrow from the quiver. He missed again.

"My, my Ranger, it seems your reputation speaks a little too highly of you." Rhiann laughed again, not unkindly. "Here, allow me." She stood close behind Hank as he drew the string further back. Reaching out, she took hold of his string hand and guided it back. "Now, drop your forearm slightly, pull back a little further, hold and…release." The arrow shot forward and smoothly hit the target. Hank let out his held breath, his reputation temporarily restored.

"Spin!" Rhiann commanded, and the light began to oscillate. Taking aim, she winked at Hank, spun herself around three times and then shot the ball of light clean through. Dropping her bow, she turned back to Hank. "Your go," she smiled.

Hank was stunned. "How did you do that?" he questioned.

"Ever since I've been old enough to hold a bow I've been shooting," Rhiann replied. "Then, when my father died, Queen Zinn asked me to take over his role as head archer. King Lawrence saw no reason to change that when he was restored to the throne -so now I train a team of forty archers. That's just enough to keep the orcs at bay."

"You're pretty amazing," continued Hank. "I've never seen anyone, not even a guy, who could do what you just did."

"Not _even_ a guy?" Rhiann countered. "You speak as if your sex has the upper hand in this sport. Did I not tell you that the majority of the king's archers are female?" She shook her head. "You have a lot to learn about this world, Ranger!"

"Seems like it!" Hank replied. "So I guess I'd better keep practising!" He held up his bow once more.

Some time, and many missed arrows later, Hank found himself blindfolded. "Rhiann, this is stupid, I feel like Luke Skywalker!" he complained. "I can hardly hit anything when I _can_ see. How in the Realm do you expect me to hit that ball of light when I can't see it!"

"Trust your instincts," Rhiann replied, adjusting the blindfold. "Now, let me just step away from you."

"Don't you trust me?" Hank teased.

"Would you?" Rhiann teased back. "Now clear your mind and try to sense your target."

Hank tried to relax. He emptied his mind of everything but his vision of the glowing ball. Drawing back the bowstring he tensed, levelled his arm, and shot.

"Way to go Hank!" A young voice squealed. Hank whipped off the blindfold and saw a tousled haired young boy standing by Rhiann. The glowing ball had found its way back to her, his arrow piercing it dead centre.

"Bobby," Hank said. "What are you doing here?"

"Sheila asked me to come find you and the guys," Bobby replied. "She has to talk to you all right now."

Hank's stomach fluttered. "OK Bobby, I guess we'd better see what's so urgent." He turned to Rhiann. "Thank you," he said. "It's been really good, if at first a little embarrassing!"

"You're welcome Hank," Rhiann replied. "Perhaps I will see you again before you and your friends leave."

"I'd like that," Hank said. "I'll see you soon." He handed the wooden bow back to Rhiann and set off back across the castle grounds.

The first thing that Hank noticed when he walked into the room was how beautiful Sheila looked. The time in Zinn really seemed to bring out the best in her. Her usually pale cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled. The dark shadows that so often featured below her lashes were gone. _How can I take her away from here again? _He thought to himself.

"Guys," Sheila began, her voice quiet but with an undercurrent of nerves. "There's something I need to tell you." Hank saw her look at each one of them in turn before she spoke again. "King Lawrence has asked me to stay a little longer in Zinn."

"Well great!" Eric replied. "I sure could do with a few more nights of hot water and a soft bed, I say we stay a while." He grinned at Presto, who remained silent, waiting to see what else Sheila would say.

Sheila drew a deep breath. "There's something else you should know," she said, looking around at her friends once more. Her gaze locked momentarily with Hank's as she paused. Hank felt the power of that gaze, and the feeling of foreboding he'd been experiencing throughout his stay in Zinn caught him right in the stomach. Willing himself to stay strong, he kept Sheila's gaze until she looked away once more.

"I've spent a long time with King Lawrence since we've been here, and he's asked me…I mean, he's suggested to me that…that…I might like to become his wife." Sheila's voice began to tremble, but Hank couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement that caused it. From the shine in her eyes, he assumed it was the latter.

Diana gasped, and Hank looked at her. He saw the mixture of emotions that crossed her face in that split second that she took to assimilate what she had just heard. It only took a moment more for her to glance in Hank's direction, and Hank saw the mixture of astonishment and question in her eyes. He knew she was willing him to speak, but he was frozen to the spot in shock. The moment was over and she returned her attentions to Sheila. "That's amazing!" she said, reaching out to her friend and hugging her warmly. "What are you going to say?"

"I don't know!" Sheila whispered. "I certainly need some time to think about it." Sheila hugged Diana back for a moment, and it wasn't long before the other members of the gang had moved closer to Sheila to talk to her. All bar one.

This was the moment he had been dreading; the point of no return as he saw it. Hank tried to look at it rationally, but his heart wouldn't accept that logic. When his friends had finished questioning Sheila, he saw her look up, seeking answers from him. Numbly he stared back at her; he wanted to run, to get as far away from the room as possible, but his legs wouldn't move.

Sensing the change in the atmosphere, Diana ushered the others from the room, leaving them alone. Once again, Hank saw the look of concern and question in Diana's eyes, but he looked away from her, not trusting himself to say anything.

"What do you think, Hank?" Sheila's soft voice finally broke through his senses.

_Don't do it_. "You must do what you want to do," he replied.

"But, is there anything you want to say about it?" Sheila questioned.

_Plenty, but you don't want to hear it. _"I don't know what to say. Is marrying…is being with Lawrence what you want?"

"I'm not sure…I need time to think." Sheila made to move towards Hank, but he took a step back from her. She looked hurt at the obvious rejection.

_But you haven't said no._ "Take all the time you need," Hank said quietly, willing himself to remain calm, not to lose it in front of her.

"I will," Sheila said.

Pause.

"Isn't there anything you want to say?" Sheila pressed. There was a hint of obvious frustration in her voice. "Anything at all?" Her hands fluttered nervously at her sides. "This is going to mean pretty big changes for us…the group, I mean."

Hank shook his head, feeling overwhelmingly tired all of a sudden. "You have to do what you think is best," he replied, trying to sound noncommittal. Inside his head, the monologue was still going strong. OK_, I'll just tell you not to marry the king and come and sleep on the ground every night with me instead. _

"Hank, don't you get it?" Sheila's face was suddenly flushed with colour. "I'm talking about staying here, in the Realm, with Lawrence. Can't you at least tell me how you feel about that?" Her hands clenched with the beginnings of anger.

She was searching for something, he could tell, something that he wanted so badly to give her, but all he could think about was how little he could offer her while they were trapped in the Realm. "I have to go," he said, knowing he needed to escape. "Let me know what you decide."

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Sheila said. "It's such a big offer…" she trailed off, again searching for an answer that wouldn't come.

_It's the fact that you don't know that's killing me. I think I could cope with knowing you were going to marry him if that's what you wanted._ "It sure is." He forced a smile. "I'll see you later." Striding past her, Hank left the room before the tears came.

Darkness had fallen when Hank again ventured out into the palace grounds. He was feeling more turmoil than he had ever felt in his life. It was as though his heart had been ripped out put on display for all to see. As he wandered numbly through the moonlit grounds, he couldn't believe that he was about to lose the love of his life. While Sheila hadn't exactly accepted King Lawrence's proposal of marriage, it seemed only a matter of time before she would decide to spend her life in Zinn. After all, what did she have to lose? A kingdom of riches and all the pleasures the king could offer her made the humble offer of his own heart pale into insignificance. Blinking back more sudden tears, he was grateful he'd managed to hold himself together long enough to escape from the rest of the gang.

His unfocused wanderings led him to a small settlement at the edge of the grounds. A glow from one of the cottages up ahead drew his attention, and he recalled that Rhiann lived very close to the practise range. Perhaps this was her home? He knew it was unreasonable to burden her with his problems, but at this point he just needed to get away from his friends. Perhaps they could talk archery again.

As he neared the cottage, he could see Rhiann silhouetted against the window. She bobbed around behind the glass, obviously clearing up after her evening meal. He knocked on the small door and within moments it opened.

"Hank?" Rhiann questioned. "What are you doing here?" She was still wearing the black archer's uniform but her auburn hair now hung loosely down her back. She stepped aside and allowed him through the door. As he entered, he saw a small, but homely front room, with a large dining table and two comfortable looking armchairs placed by the fire. Books were stacked neatly along a shelf on one wall, and the fire was warm and inviting.

"I couldn't sleep," he replied, willing his voice not to shake. "So I thought I'd see if you were still awake."

Rhiann seemed to pick up on the forced control in Hank's voice, and motioned for him to sit down. "Would you like something to drink?" She asked him, a look of concern on her beautiful face.

"Thanks," Hank replied. He reached out to take a cup of sweet smelling liquid from her.

"It's crimson berry wine," Rhiann explained as he took a sip. "Sweet, mildly alcoholic and very relaxing." She sipped her own cup. "Now why don't you tell me why you're really here?"

Hank sighed and put the cup down, the sweet wine warming his throat and beginning to calm him. "Let's just say I've had some news that I don't quite know how I'm going to deal with," he said softly. "Something that could change my whole life."

"Your friend is considering the king's proposal of marriage?" Rhiann guessed.

Hank started. "How did you know about it?"

"News travels fast in Zinn." Rhiann replied. "Nothing here remains a secret for long." She sipped again at her berry wine.

"She hasn't accepted-yet." Hank said numbly. "If she does…let's just say it changes things. A lot."

"You seem to be the master of understatement!" Rhiann spoke gently. "I know you feel more about this than you are prepared to admit."

Hank shook his head. "I just need to forget about it all for a while." He took a slug of the crimson berry wine. "I shouldn't be here, burdening you."

"You're not burdening me," Rhiann replied softly. "To tell you the truth, it's good to have some company. Things have been quiet in the house since my father died." She looked sad for a moment, and then brightened. "So why don't we just enjoy each other's company for a while-maybe we'll both feel better!" Reaching over, she topped up Hank's cup, accidentally brushing her hand against his. Hank shivered at the touch of her hand, then, embarrassed, he pulled away slightly.

"So this girl of yours-she's beautiful?" Rhiann asked softly.

"Yeah. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Hank replied quietly. "When the sun catches her hair she looks like a John William Waterhouse girl."

Rhiann looked momentarily confused, but Hank decided to let it pass. "Come and sit by the fire," she said, picking up the two cups of wine. She guided Hank over to one of two armchairs that were placed close to the hearth. As she did so, she brushed against him slightly to stoke up the fire. Unaccustomed to the close contact, Hank backed away a little. Unfortunately at that moment, she moved back and their collision sent her cup of berry wine spilling across the front of his tunic.

"I'm sorry!" She exclaimed. "Here, let me get you a cloth." She rushed off to find one, returning quickly.

"It's OK, really," Hank consoled. "There have been worse things spilt on it!"

"Just let me see…" Rhiann inspected his arm. "I've got something that'll get rid of it easily-but you're going to have to take it off." She paused. "That's if you're not too shy to!" She was teasing again, and Hank took the bait knowingly.

"If you can promise that the sight of my naked body won't drive you insane!" He teased back. He was glad of the distraction from his previous dark thoughts.

"It's not as if I haven't seen a man's body before, Hank!" Rhiann countered. "It's another thing that goes with the job-dressing the wounds afterwards!" She took Hank's tunic from him, and waited for him to unbutton his shirt. When he handed them to her, she took them into another room of the cottage.

The warmth from the fire was soothing to Hank's near naked body. He settled back down into the armchair, and then decided that he'd rather sit a little closer to the blaze. So, slipping downwards, he sat directly on the colourful rug in front of the fire. He looked deeply into the flames for a moment, and realised that they were almost the same colour as Rhiann's long hair. With a jolt, he tried to stop that particular train of thought.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Rhiann came back into the room.

"Sure!" Hank replied, shifting position on the floor.

"Thanks," Rhiann continued. "I try to sit in the armchair but I still can't get used to sitting by the fire alone. My father used to sit in the other one and read to me when I was a child, and then as I got older, I'd read to him. It's not really the same when there's no one in the other chair." Rhiann seemed to blush, although maybe it was the firelight warming her pale cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm being maudlin."

"It's fine, really," Hank said softly. "He sounds like a good man."

"He was." Rhiann said. "I miss him very much." Their gaze locked for a moment. Rhiann was the first to break it. "How did you get that scar?" She asked, pointing to a large crescent shaped white line on Hank's chest.

"That was one of Venger's reminders not to abuse his power." Hank said. "I got it the night we faced him in the Dragon's Graveyard, just before I could have finished him for good." He grimaced at the memory. "Those energy bolts can do some damage if you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Rhiann nodded and rolled up her left sleeve. A circular scar was still livid against her pale skin in the crook of her elbow. "Arrows can be pretty destructive too, if you happen to get in the way of them," she said quietly.

"How did you get that?" Hank asked, fascinated by the contrast of scar against skin.

"The day I learned not to sneak up on archers practising their art!" Rhiann replied with a rueful smile. "I was lucky not to lose my arm."

Before he even thought about it, Hank reached out and touched Rhiann's arm. "Does it still hurt?" He asked her as he touched the raw looking skin.

"Only when the weather changes!" Rhiann replied, shivering involuntarily at his touch. "Yours?" She touched his chest softly, tracing the crescent of the scar.

"Not so much any more," Hank said, suddenly feeling breathless. He simultaneously wanted her to stop touching, and wanted her to carry on. It had been so long…He caught her hand and held it to his chest a little longer, desire suddenly flaring like a wild flame inside him. "You're a warrior," he said softly. "So am I. Sometimes it's good to have a more gentle touch."

Rhiann smiled, her face lit softly by the warm glow of the fire. "Is this what you really want?" Hank knew that Rhiann could feel his heart hammering under her hand, and judging by the flush to her cheeks, he guessed her own was beating nearly as fast.

In answer, Hank leaned forward and kissed the archer full on the mouth. For the moment, nothing else mattered. "We both need a little time away from our responsibilities," he murmured. "Being a leader is a lonely job." He probed her parted lips, tentatively at first, until she gave his tongue passage to her warm mouth. With a groan, he felt an instant arousal, and pulled her closer to his chest. Her long auburn hair tantalised his bare skin as they began to intertwine, teasing him further and further.

Hank was surprised at how fast his body responded to the woman in his arms. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this would do neither of them any good, but also that there was no harm in their actions. Leadership was irrevocably teamed with loneliness, and for tonight he wanted to forget. Hank felt Rhiann respond enthusiastically to his kiss, and soon found himself discarding his leggings and removing the rest of Rhiann's clothes. He pulled her towards him, hungering for the feeling of her lithe, naked body pressed against his. It had been so long since he had felt the caress of another human being, and the very touch of her silky smooth skin and long hair was enough to make him breathless with desire.

For a time they explored one another, both in awe at the sensations that Hank hadn't known he'd craved until now. His hands, so used to the toils of rough living and fighting, caressed and explored Rhiann with a wondering gentleness. When clothed, there was little indication of the wonders of her body, but now she was naked he explored the fullness of her breasts and the sweeping curve of her waist, down to the centre of her pleasure. The intimate touch of Rhiann's warm hands soon had him shivering with desire, and as she caressed him, he felt his need reach new heights. He urged her to continue, her gentle strokes along the length of him giving him the dull, seductive ache of suppressed pleasure. As he looked down at Rhiann's flushed features, he knew that she too was welcoming the sensations of his own hands.

Their lovemaking was passionate, but reverent. Hank explored Rhiann's body, marvelling at her ardour, and revelling in her hunger for him. When they finally became one, he looked up at her through half-closed eyes as she rose above him. She was beautiful, transported to a place where he had taken her, and where he was imminently to join her. Her face was a picture of concentration as she found her release, and he felt his hips thrust with a powerful rhythm as he drew nearer to his own climax. This was one night he knew he would never forget, and as he reached his own ecstatic oblivion, he pulled her close, the intimacy of the moment too powerful for him to merely watch her. Their bodies, warm and weary, intertwined for an eternal moment as the two battle scarred warriors took their pleasure in one another.

Some time later, the two were curled together before the dying embers of the fire. Hank gently stoked Rhiann's hair as he relaxed, his fingers tracing a path down her long neck. Eventually, he turned to her. Rhiann was beginning to doze in his arms. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Rhiann, I-"

"Ssh," she murmured. "Don't talk. I know. There's nothing to talk about." She smiled. "We took comfort in each other." She propped herself up on an elbow and looked him straight in the eye. "You will go back to your friends, and I will return to my post, with the shared knowledge of a wonderful night." She kissed him gently on the lips. "No more, no less."

Hank stared at the woman beside him, sensing that she was sincere, and knowing that she was right. "You're an amazing woman, Rhiann," he said softly. "I'll never forget you."

"I should hope not!" Rhiann replied, a teasing glint in her eye. "I don't treat all of my guests this way!"

That, Hank knew, was his cue to break the moment. Sitting up, he pulled on his leggings and handed Rhiann her tunic, which she folded and placed on the armchair. Naked, she walked; lithe and long limbed, across the floor of the cottage to retrieve Hank's shirt and tunic. She passed them to him, now cleaned and better than new.

"I wish you all the luck and hope in the world, Hank," Rhiann said quietly as, wrapped in the blanket from the chair, she walked him to the door of the cottage.

"And you," Hank replied. He kissed her once more, still marvelling at the fact that her height meant he didn't have to stoop. "If we should meet again…" he trailed off.

"Goodbye, Hank." Rhiann said, with the barest of catches in her voice. "I hope you get what you so desperately want."

Hank turned, and walked from the cottage. He chanced to look back only once, to see Rhiann silhouetted in the doorway, her hair enflamed by the light from the fire. "You're the John William Waterhouse girl," he murmured, feeling the combined senses of loss and gain. It was a long walk back through the forest, but he didn't care. There was plenty of time for him to remember the night.

Return to Fayza's fanfic page.


End file.
